New Vegas Legacy: Terms of Service
by A.H.Faleaux
Summary: After the Courier brought victory to the NCR, all was not well with the Mojave. This is the story of how nations are built, how they are remade, and how even a nation in its death throes is a force to be reckoned with. Later chapter rated M for language, violence,  mild  adult situations.
1. Prologue

Terms of Service

By A.H. Faleaux

AUTHORS NOTE: Such is my love of New Vegas, and my sadness that there will be no continuation of the end, that it has forced me to indulge once again in the art of fanfiction. Because keeping it to myself just isn't fun anymore. As you will see unlike some you might read, I did not work with the cut and dry NCR ending. The Courier does all that and just stays a Courier? not mine. This is the prologue to what I have titles The New Vegas Legacy series. Normally I would ask you to read and review, but really that hasn't been much of a success in my past dealings. So no begging from me. Read and review, or don't, makes no difference to me. Though it would be much appreciated.

Before the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, the Courier was called one last time to the office of General Oliver, where he was approached with a very special offer. President Kimball planned to enlist the Courier as a full citizen and soldier, with the intent of having him train and lead the NCR Courier Corps. Their mission: Keep military supply and communication lines strong and secure at home, cause dissent in enemy lands to set the stage for the Army and Rangers to come marching in, and to perform any mission all others have failed. It was part of President Kimball's plan for a safer and more stable nation once the Mojave was claimed.

When presented with this deal, the Courier Alistair Dellon presented the terms for his future services to the NCR. The Lucky 38, Vault 19, and Nipton were to be given to him in place of the lavish salary they promised. In addition, these locations were part of his personal Estate, and NCR had no authority over them. This meant that all inhabitants would be afforded immunity. He emphasized that any attempt by NCR personnel to violate the terms of the agreement, would be met by swift retaliation. Because control of the Lucky 38 entailed handing the Courier control of the Securitrons, Crocker and Oliver took several days to send these terms to President Kimball, who sent back a reluctant approval of all terms.

His Estate established after the victory at Hoover Dam, the Courier personally invited the evicted Followers of the Apocalypse to set up their medical headquarters in the formerly abandoned town of Nipton, and new research facilities in Vault 19. They accepted, and after a reconstruction phase, they began to flourish with the regular traffic to and from the core states of the NCR. They were eventually able to offer the best medical and educational services in the Mojave. While the NCR were not too happy to have one of their citizens harbor 'political and social dissidents' the citizens and infantrymen regarded him a hero, and his training of the new Courier Corps was proving more effective than imagined. The higher-ups of the NCR held their tongues, and enjoyed the benefits of their gamble.

Unbeknownst to all except those individuals directly involved, the Courier was covertly building the framework of a future dynasty. Yes Man was installed as the main coordinator of the securitrons, and covertly reprogrammed to answer only to his orders. The MP Officers gave their orders, but Yes Man only did so while they were in accordance with Alistair's. Should there ever come an order against him, Yes Man was to upgrade and mobilize every Securitron in range to retaliate.

In his more personal matters, his relations with Sarah of Vault 21, Red Lucy of The Thorn, and his companion Cass, each produced a child. Cautious of revenge-seekers from the Legion, and the Brotherhood he had fractured, Alistair kept his relation to them a secret. He knew it was only a matter of time before the NCR deemed one of his best soldiers a suitable replacement,allowing them to silently eliminate him or dismantle his Estate for their own purposes. When that time came, he would be prepared to expand his Estate. And if and when that estate was done expanding, he would leave it all to the bearers of his true legacy when eventually death would come to claim him.


	2. The Break In

**New Vegas Legacy**

Chapter One

The Break-In

Old man was too confident in himself, as were the Followers and their guards. Patrols weren't attentive, not worth killing, just stripped them naked and tied them together. Old man made his home at the center of the town, their target was the armory in the bus attached to the house. Her partners didn't want to take their chances facing him head-on, and she had to agree; which is why she mixed up the poison to take him out of the picture quietly, allowing them full pick of his armory. Whatever they could carry away. As Mary kept her head down and shoulder on the building, she had her eye on the Blade of the East that was likely to be the centerpiece of his collection. It was heavy, and probably tall as her, but she would buff up to strike fear with it just as Legate Lanius had.

Voices around the corner stopped her. Two of the students that attended here. Sounded about ready to start mashing their mouths together, but thankfully they spared her and parted for the night. She looked across the main street and saw the quick flash of light that indicated one of her partners were in place, and he wouldn't be if the other wasn't as well. Mary didn't like either of them personally, but she had to admit one was a great brain to have around and the other a skilled pair of hands. Her ears picked up the sliding of a window, then she saw the front door open a crack. Eight brisk steps and she was inside. For such a high-profile name, he didn't have much more than any other wastelander did in their living room, if just a little cleaner. Partner was in the corner, shotgun ready and aimed at his bedroom door, the barrel illuminated by the moonlight. Amateur.

Mary crept along the wall and saw the door didn't even have a lock. He was making this too easy. The knife was coated in the special blend, ready to be administered. She got in front of the door, and slowly opened it. It didn't occur to her that it was far too easy until she saw a baton swing at her. A baton? Insulting. She fell on her back to dodge it, grabbed his arm and kicked into the darkness at his kneecaps. He grunted, held his ground, but fell after her partner shot him full in the face. Right on top of her.

"Hurry, let's get what we want and go!" Her partner said in a muffled shout. She heard him run into the back.

"Geez guys, you shot him in the face?" The other finally showed up, closing the door behind him.

Throwing the Courier off, Mary replied "Shut up and start grabbing before the neighbors come knocking."

Her flashlight did a careful scan of his armory, but the one thing she wanted was nowhere to be seen. "Damn him, he probably keeps it in the Lucky 38." Mary growled and settled her light on a golf driver with an ace of spades on a low shelf. "This will have to do." She grabbed it along with the short curved sword next to it.

"Everyone got their share?" The gunmen asked, holstering a couple of .45s and admiring a stout but brutal-looking shotgun.

"I have mine." Affirmed the other as he held what appeared to be a modified grenade launcher.

"Give out the stealthboys, I hear them coming." Mary put the blade in her bag and held the driver ready. The planner divvied out the get-away aids, and without a word Mary strapped it to her wrist and activated it, feeling the stealth field engulf her. She ran to the front, saw people in the doorway, and tossed a smoke bomb. With a few swings of the driver, she made a path for the rest to escape.

Hearing the confused crowd behind her, Mary grinned as she ran north out of Nipton. Though she had far less than what she had come for, she was at least satisfied that the Courier had been dropped and robbed by some unknowns. His overconfidence was his undoing this night. Mom will definitely be proud of her.

"You're damn lucky they only shot you with a bean bag." Veronica hoisted Alistair into his bed with help from one of the Followers. He was groaning as he regained consciousness. By the light of his Pip-Boy she saw his forehead was deeply bruised, but it wouldn't cause any lasting damage. "Get some Med-X, he's going to need it when he wakes up." The Follower nodded and walked out of the bedroom.

"You think I...underestimated them?" Alistair opened his eyes and reached up to outline his bruise.

"That bruise should tell you 'yes you did'."

"Some test that turned out to be, I didn't even get in one hit." He said, closing his eyes and wincing. "Cass and Lucy are going to get a real good laugh."

"At least you tried?"Veronica coughed as the intern came back with four syringes of Med-X.

"Thank you, you can leave now, I have him handled." Veronica watched the intern leave, and shot a small amount of the painkiller directly into his forehead.

"Veronica." Alistair's breathing slowed down as he prepared to fall asleep.

"What is it Al?" She asked as she stood up, yawned and walked to the open door.

"Why are you the only woman I really get along with?"

Veronica thought for a couple seconds. "Well, I'd have to say it's because we don't have a child between us."

"Would you like too?" Alistair joked.

"You don't need another bruise, go to bed, need anything I'll be sleeping out here on the couch." Veronica laughed and closed the door.

"Yes ma'am." Alistair turned on his side and let the painkiller put him to sleep.

He dreamed of Zion Valley. The free-flowing river, the thrill of a yao guai hunt, and all the fresh food you can pick. And the Sorrows. Always happy to see their hero pay a visit. When he awoke to the throbbing bruise, he really missed the dream. Veronica gave him another shot, but he didn't feel like retreating to another dream. Reality was he had to be at Camp Cove to put the fresh recruits through the grinder.

Alistair was packing, when Veronica came in and held out a combat knife in her palm.

"Hey, I found this on the floor."

Alistair took it, and saw it was coated in a dry blue substance. He licked his pinky and rubbed it in. The tingle told him it was a poison, predominantly from a radscorpion judging by the color. "So shooting me was Plan B, A was to poison me in my sleep."

"Mary really absorbed her mother's cold heart." Veronica took the knife back. "I don't see Tyler or Jasper going along with this, she probably fooled them into thinking it was just to paralyze you."

"Lucky my sons are more forgiving, or else I might have got a face full of buckshot last night."Alistair said, put the knife down, and checked the very weathered service rifle he always kept with him. It was nearing the end of it's operational life, probably had to be retired to the Lucky 38 soon. He made a mental note to consult the Gun Runners on constructing a replacement.

"Maybe you should take that into account next time you plan a family activity."

"Yeah. Maybe I should have Mary get more acquainted with her brothers next time."


	3. A Sister's Duty

New Vegas Legacy:Mojave Mercy

Blood Caps

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout:New Vegas characters and other copyrighted elements in this story. Only my OCs.

Mary heard the door creak open, and then slammed shut. Her prey was home. She quickly came out of the half-sleep she had been in since taking up her position in the bathroom hours ago. There was some mumblings about the lack of food in this dump of a town, and the large presence of ghouls that somehow unsettled him. Strange that it did considering the entire reason she was here was because this man, Edgar Donnell, was wanted dead by the Omertas for brutally killing one of their prostitutes in his hotel room. Perhaps the man was uncomfortable seeing a walking, talking, corpse. Had to grant him that; it was a little jarring to see them acting like nothing has happened.

Edgar sifted through his dressers and she heard the distinctive drag of metal across wood. He walked to the bathroom door and opened it, the door concealing her pressed against the wall behind it. She heard him dumping water into the bathtub, setting his knife on the cracked tile. With her free hand she pushed the door away from her, its rusty hinges slowly screaming. Edgar finished dumping the water and picked up another jug to dump, giving no indication he suspected anything other than aged hinges causing the door to close.

When she was about to thrust the knife into his spine, Edgar swung around and stabbed her in the left shoulder. Mary yelled, but thrust forward and got him in the right lung through the back, followed by three more to the liver and spine in quick succession. Edgar's baby blues maintained their glare as he slumped down to the floor and bled out, his last words an indiscernible wheeze.

"You actually stabbed me," Mary grit her teeth as she pulled the knife from her shoulder "this never leaves this room." She said to the corpse as she pressed down on the wound. Though she would have enjoyed the cool bath Edgar had started, Mary drained the tub, plugged it, and went through with her ritual. She posed him naked in the fetal position inside the tub and let the rest of his blood drain out while she used his shirt to bandage her injury.

"I knew the prostitute you killed," Mary said to the corpse in the tub as she tightened the last layer of brahmin leather she'd harvested from his shirt around her shoulder wound ", a nice girl came all the way from New Reno; sad she dropped into her last profession because of her gambling addiction; sadder still a monster like you got his claws in her." Mary said taking a small paintbrush from her right pocket and pointing it down at him. "I almost don't want to give you an obituary like the rest." For a few seconds she silently considered it, dangling the brush by the bottom between her thumb and index finger. "Oh what the hell, I'd sure like an obituary when I get taken in eventually." Mary said with a shrug, dipped the brush in his blood and wrote his name on the bare wall above the tub.

It only took Mary two minutes before she ran out of items for Edgar's obituary. She sat cross-legged on the floor tallying off anything else she knew about her most recent kill. "Murderer...loved vodka spiked with painkillers...had a thing for brunettes and brunette hookers especially; and that's about it for this scumbag" Mary wrote a few last words: 'Will not be missed', then made her signature and left the hotel room without another word.

"Goodbye Dinky, my old friend." Mary waved at the giant weathered dinosaur, pulled her hat down and turned on her heel towards the north-east. The sun had set sometime before Edgar had come back into his room, and with the only merchant fast asleep and his inventory locked up, there wasn't a drop of alcohol available in sleepy little Novac for her to celebrate. No matter. She knew one place that was always open with free liquor.

It had been sitting there for years now. The eyes of the NCR were too focused on Hoover Dam to take a look at the drainage pipe to a Brotherhood bunker they had demolished years ago. All the same she kept her head down and her steps light soon as she came within sight of Camp Hope, light enough that the wind would erase them before any suspicious ranger could track her. She reached the grate, stopped to listen for any indication she was being followed, then lifted it and climbed inside.

Once out of the pipe, Mary relaxed her guard and used her key to open the door down into the main area. Her reflexes saved her from a bullet that hit the steps behind her and ricocheted up. Mary's instant reaction was to grab and throw three knives down the hall in the general area of the shot's origin. The stream of colorful profanity that ensued told her it could only be one man.

"You must be drunk to have taken a shot at me." Mary resumed her relaxed state and walked down to the agonizing young man she had injured "I mean really Tyler, who else could be down here?" Mary asked, getting down on her knees and yanking out the knife that had been lodged into his right thigh.

"Shut up and get a tourniquet." Tyler pressed on the knife wound and glared up at her.

"Not that bad, some needlework and it'll be fine." Mary picked up his brown hat and grabbed his hand to help him to his feet. "You're damn lucky I wasn't aiming for the kill zones." She said and a quick squirt of blood from the wound splashed onto the floor. "Okay, maybe I got too close, let's get you patched up."

"What are you doing here?" Tyler asked as he tied the surgical tubing around his thigh. The blood ceased, and a relieved Tyler put his hat back on and reclined in the ancient metal chair "And who finally got their knife in you?" He pointed at her left shoulder with a grin.

"A lucky piece of scum."

Mary went to the metal box labeled 'Medical' and gathered everything she would need to sew up her handiwork. She saw that the box labeled 'Alcohol' had only some empty bottles of whiskey and absinthe. "And I came here to celebrate a kill, but I see you drank the clubhouse dry."

"You're damn right I did." Tyler pumped his fist in the air. Mary shook her head and put her hand on his chest to keep him steady while she knelt down and after ripping the hole in his pants wider, started mending him up. Tyler winced but didn't appear to be feeling the full process. He also seemed very deep in thought, something which Mary found distracting. Her brother usually shot off at the mouth as quick and easy as he did his guns.

"Looks like something's scratching your brain." She stated, getting his attention with a quick poke at his wound. He inhaled but took it with grace.

"You hear about what happened at the NCR farms?" He asked her, but before she could reply she was too busy feeling pulses stop, he went on "Of course you didn't. Well I did, I was there; just some starving settlers willing to fight for their food, now most are with the Followers. The batons and cattle prods really did a nasty number on all of them." He reached for the empty bottle of vodka next to the bed, and when he found it was dry tossed it across the room to shatter on the wall.

Mary pulled and finished the last stitch. "You want; I could stitch the pants too."

"To hell with my pants, the Mojave is getting worse with the damn greedy bear!" Tyler picked up another dry bottle and tossed it in the same direction as the last. Mary sighed and returned the scissors to the medical box. She calmly walked back over to Tyler and clocked him in the jaw.

"Settle down Tyler, you keep letting this bother you, you'll go insane, and you'll force me to kill you before they gun you down." She told him with an authoritative glare and winding up another punch.

Tyler looked back at him, his light brown eyes bloodshot and staring back, the dark red beard stubble that went from ear to ear bristling with his inner drunken rage. "It gets worse, Mary."

She had seen him regret something before; he had killed a coyote pup on accident when they were younger, and it had haunted him for years to snuff out young life. This was a different breed of regret she saw on her brother's face. "How much worse?" She asked without letting up her fist. He raised a hand and made it into a pistol, aimed it at her chest and mimed three shots. Mary let her fist go down, and she shook her head. "You didn't."

"I did, I killed three troops."

Mary slugged him again in one blink of his eyes, with enough force to knock him unconscious. She made a frustrated yell and started pacing around the room. Tyler had really messed up this time. Three troopers dead, and being a regular face on the caravans, he was undoubtedly a fugitive. Of course she killed people, but the Omertas never targeted NCR, way too much heat with their hand in everything. And she wasn't known by as many people like him, heir to Cassidy Caravans, one of the few independent caravans left competing with the Crimson Caravan. Mary went back to him and took his pistol out of its holster. It was Lucky, their father's revolver. _Oh the irony_. Mary paused, thinking of how she would have to salvage this, as their father's profile was way too big to handle it.

"You're damn lucky I'm your sister." Mary emptied Lucky of its remaining bullets and tossed it onto his chest. "Most who piss me off are in a tub of blood by now."

Hope you all had a happy thanksgiving and decided not to brave Black Friday.


	4. Faces

New Vegas Legacy

A New Face

It would have been so easy. Easier than the kill in Novac. One swipe of the clean white ceramic knife to make it red. Might get some on her, but that was why she had the mask and goggles. He lay there sound asleep, dreaming his last dream if she had come here for his life.

"Wake up Jazz" she said and slapped him in the face. The young man jumped and made a surprised grunt. He looked up at her, flinched when she flipped on the bedside table lamp.

"You could stand to be a nicer sister" he put on his glasses and sat up in the bed, throwing off the blanket. Mary stepped back as he crawled out and threw on the lab coat thrown across the nearby armchair, which bore the name tag Dr. Weintraub. "You know, as in giving me a gentle shake, not slapping me like those Gomorrah whores you hang around"

Mary wound up her right hand for a full one hundred eighty slap, which made Jazz jump backward onto the bed.

"Next time I will slap you like a Gomorrah whore, show you how tough they are" Mary relaxed and took a deep breath, "But I didn't come here to smack you around smart boy, we need to talk"

Jazz relaxed as well, nodded his understanding, and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "I've heard about the shooting. His wanted posters went up around here yesterday"

"Then you know you what we ought to do. You give him a pretty new face, while I cook up a new life story to make him a new man," she said and sat down in the armchair. ", how longs' that gone take?"

"For once, your expectations are too high" Jazz said, walking out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. Mary raised her right brow and followed after him.

"What's that mean?"

Jazz took a bottle of water out of his fridge, offered another to her as he answered "He'd throw it all away to do it again" Mary noted a shake in his voice, and his pinky pressed into the bottle.

Mary took the water and sat down with him at the small corner table. "How do you know?" she popped the cap off.

"We talk a lot when he comes through; the favorite topic, with or without alcohol, is the Mojave getting the short end of the stick."

"So you knew he was fixing to off some soldier boys?" Mary propped her elbow on the table and leaned onto it as she took a drink. Her heart-shaped face took on a slight flush that felt odd with the cold water in her hand.

"I guess I should have known he would go to his guns first, but I only had this feeling he was going to do something, and soon" Jazz rubbed the back of his neck and looked out of the window. It appeared his neighbors hadn't been stirred at all.

"Please tell me you tried to calm his road jockey ass down" Mary did her best to keep her nostrils from flaring as she anticipated his answer.

Jazz glanced at his sister's nails lightly raking at his already abused table and forced his eyes into hers as he shrugged and replied "Only fools rush into a losing battle"

"Well then," she put her water down "how are we going to fix this? Can't keep him caged forever, he's too much of a people person"

"Obviously we let him do what he wants, he is a grown man after all"

Mary snapped her head at him, her left eye twitched and she bit back a snarl.

"I'm pretending you didn't say that, oh brother of mine" Mary made three hard steps towards him, chin down and eyes narrowed.

"Well I did, ignore it if you want" Jazz did a very rare thing; he stood and though he quivered under his sister's razor gaze, managed to hold his meek frame up in defiance.

Though she was impressed by the display, Mary lost no venom as she closed the distance and with a simple prod at the middle of his forehead popped her brother's inflated wall. Jazz dropped his strong stature and allowed his face to soften in the slow fall back into his chair.

"Those quacks at Big Mt. scramble your damn brain?"

Jasper didn't give her an answer, only looked away and started tapping the table. In the silence, Mary finished her water and tossed the bottle into the trash. She didn't bother hiding her snarl as she connected the dots

"You've gone and done something stupid"

"Yes sister dear. Fighting the good fight with the Resistance the best I can" Jazz answered, still tapping at the table. "I'm their top bomb maker"

A white knife narrowly cleaved the young man's hand in two, made him yell again and whip his hand away to frantically examine it. Mary seized him by the shoulders and lifted him up without a single grunt.

"Who is your mother?" Mary put him against the wall and looked ready to devour him head-first if he didn't answer right.

"Sarah Weintraub" Jazz winced as her nails dug in and threatened to puncture his lab coat.

"Where is she right now?"

"In the Vault, she doesn't go anywhere-"

"You're goddamn right!," Mary affirmed and accented by dropping him. She scowled down at him as he groaned at the pain in his backside. "if you weren't my brother, and the Omertas wanted you to squeal, I know ways to make you squeal an opera; do you think the Big Bad Bear's gonna be gentle with your meek mommy if they wanted to get to you? All these years I thought you were smart, but them books didn't give you any sense."

"She would die before selling me out!" Jazz surprised her again by leaping to his feet and taking a swing at her. But Mary caught his fist and moved to twist it behind his back.

"Right on the money bright boy; they'd yank her out of the Vault and she'd die of fright; and it would be all your fault" She said, the venom in her voice making his skin crawl.

Jazz bit down a sound of fright and did his best to ignore the pain "This is bigger than me and you Mary, this is about freedom-"

"And you're putting lives on the line, to get freedom for this dust bowl" Mary interrupted and twisted his arm a tad tighter. "Before I leave, you're going to wake up from your foolish dream"

"Tyler and I are ready to kill or be killed for something better," Jazz turned his head and showed Mary a look she had never witnessed on the even-tempered bookworm: an iron resolve that brought tears to his eyes and a jaw clenched to hold his pain. "You kill for blood caps, and one day you're going to die for blood caps; you're just another Gomorrah whore."

In the next instant Jazz was thrown to the floor, back and right wrist pulsing with pain and his glasses had flown off. He heard the thundering steps of Mary leaving his house. When he rose from the floor and managed to snatch up his glasses, the only trace of his sister was the knife still stuck in the table.


End file.
